The Under Barrow Leg Appreciation Society
by sup phyl
Summary: Deleted scene set between chapters 10 and 11 of 'I Dare You'. During their game of dares Alfred and Jimmy unwittingly created a club dedicated to the under butler's legs which Tom has joined in his search for fun while the family are in Scotland, he also ropes in the under butler to have a little fun at the footmen's expense. Set in S3CS.


**To understand/ appreciate this, ****_I Dare You_**** should be read first. Nonetheless I have written a summary below of how events transpired prior to this scene, as to how the Under Barrow Leg Appreciation Society originally came about.**

**Previously: Allfred, in his dare (given to him by Jimmy) to hide from Mr Carson, hid under the table, when he was asked why, he said that he needed inspiration for a poem he was writing for the Under Barrow/ Mr Butler's legs. Following this, Alfred recited the finished poem to Mr Barrow the next day; and when asked about his new found love for the under butler's legs he panicked and said that he and Jimmy had started an appreciation society to his legs. Therefore Jimmy, in an epiphany, dared Alfred to get Mr Branson to join the society and Mr Branson agreed, even though Alfred gave him 3 conditions as part of the initiation (to put him off, but failed) that Tom has to write a poem to Mr Barrow's legs, kiss him, and shave his own legs. Alfred has done all 3, Jimmy and Tom need to shave their legs, and the latter also needs to present a poem. **

**Here is what happened when they all met up that night in Tom's bedroom.**

**If you think that I am trying to make Jimmy and Alfred look like two big girls, then you would be absolutely right :D **

**Thank you so much for reading. **

**Warning for utter insanity**

**Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes.**

* * *

After Jimmy had lost his fight with Mr Tufton for Mrs Patmore's honour (as dared to by Alfred), and topped it off by joining Alfred and Tom in giving the under butler a big kiss (as part of the requirement for joining the Leg Appreciation Society), everyone dispersed from the kitchen and retired to bed one by one. Meanwhile Tom pulled Mr Barrow over to one side.

"Thomas, I want to apologise for kissing you."

"May I ask why you were kissing me Mr Branson?" Thomas brushed himself off, still in recovery from being punched several times by Alfred and Mr Tufton, and from being kissed for the fourth time now, as a result of the dares between the footmen.

"Please, let's do away with formalities."

"If you wish… Tom." The under butler was torn between discomfort at Tom being so informal and happy that he wouldn't have to recognise the Irishman as being above him.

"I'm afraid I kissed you as Alfred said it was a condition of joining the society dedicated to your legs." Tom said without any hint of shame.

"Are you telling me you joined?" Thomas knew that Tom was tolerant and bold, but this still surprised him.

"I thought it might be a source of amusement while the family are away. Tell me though, why have they done it? Or are they really that obsessed with you?"

Thomas looked around and lowered his voice in case either footman was about somewhere, "They think I don't know, but I think they've been playing dares and it's led to Alfred being believed to fancy me."

"Wow. You may have to tell me the whole story. Why haven't you told them to stop?"

"Because I'm enjoying using it to my advantage, you see Alfred tends to get in a panic and make a right idiot of himself." Thomas relayed as he thought back to the mischief Alfred had got up to; which ranged from hiding under the under butler's bed in the night and claiming it was because he dreamed he was naked and giving birth in a field of cheese, to kissing Mr Barrow, punching him, and writing a poem about his legs.

"He shaved his legs and all." Tom informed the bemused under butler.

"Believe me that's not the strangest thing he's done this week. So are you going to this meeting then?" Which he heard was scheduled for that very night, what they would get up to was beyond the under butler imaginings.

"Yes. The thing is I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have a little fun with them."

Tom caught Thomas' attention here. "Do I?"

"Do you?"

"I think I do. Can hardly turn down an offer like that now can I?"

"Fantastic. By the way, I know you're sensitive about it, but Alfred might have mentioned it; is your hair really a wig?"

* * *

Later that evening Tom was waiting in his bedroom for the arrival of the footmen, believing that such a strange escapade should take place in private where no one could see them. He paced the room in his pyjamas and dark blue robe until that knock on Tom's bedroom door saw the opening of the first Under Barrow Leg Appreciation Society meeting.

"Who is it?" Tom called beyond the door.

"It's Alfred."

Tom opened the door, "Evening Al…fred." Tom froze as the footman trundled in in a bright pink fluffy dressing gown.

"Evening Mr Branson."

"Please, call me Tom. That's a uh- very interesting dressing gown." Tom said as he shut the door.

"It were white but it got washed with a red jacket." Alfred explained.

"I see. It really… brings out your eyes."

"Thanks."

A second knock at the door distracted Tom from Alfred's robe and asked the footman to sit down, which he did on the floor, not feeling he should sit anywhere else, being a servant in one of the master's bedrooms.

"Who is it?" Tom once again called to outside.

"Jimmy, Mr Branson."

"Please call me…. Tom." Tom was once again frozen at the sight as he opened the door when he saw the blonde footman there.

"Thank you… Tom." Jimmy entered with a grin at the refreshment of informality as Tom closed the door.

"What on earth is that?" Tom stared at Jimmy's attire, which also saw Alfred's jaw drop.

"It's a kimono."

"A kimono?!"

Jimmy was indeed wearing a long dark blue kimono which draped loosely about him. "Lady Anstruther bought it for me when I left, got a problem with that?" _They'll buy that, right?_

"No, not at all. Would you like me to hang it up for you M'Lady?"

"No, I don't want you to snag it, it's pure silk this is." Jimmy stroked the front of his kimono lovingly.

"Oh is it now?"

"Yes." As Jimmy walked past Tom, the Irishman saw on the back of the kimono a pattern of pink embroidered flowers.

_Does he know there's flowers on his back? _"Well, sit down then." Tom gestured to where Alfred was sitting and Jimmy took a seat next to him. "So, how is this going to work?"

Alfred spoke, as Jimmy nodded in greeting to him, "Well I uh- I took the liberty of thinking up an agenda."

"Blimey you take things seriously don't you?"

"If it's worth doing it's worth doing right."

"Fine, fine. Go on then."

"Well first we need to make sure all the requirements have been met. So Mr Bran- Tom… Have you written that poem yet?"

"Indeed I have."

"Go on then Mr- Tom."

"All right. Do we need candlelight for this?" Tom joked, but was thrown slightly when Alfred took him seriously and told Jimmy to go and light some candles, which he did before turning off the electric light and repositioning himself beside Alfred on the floor in the dark as Tom sat before them, words in hand. "Ready?"

"Yes. Dazzle us Mr Branson." Alfred challenged him.

_"O! Change thy thought, that I may change my mind:  
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?  
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,  
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:  
Make thee another self for love of me,  
That beauty still may live in thine or thee."_

"That… that were so beautiful." Jimmy whimpered. The footmen huddled together, practically in tears.

"What did it mean?" Alfred blubbed.

"I don't know but it were so lovely. Pass me a tissue." Jimmy fanned his eyes to dry his tears as Alfred drew a tissue from a holder from the bed side table and passed it to Jimmy who blew his nose loudly.

"There you have it then." Tom said, putting his paper away, feeling quite uncomfortable at the emotion he seemed to have triggered at the unrecognised sonnet he took from Shakespeare.

"Do you need a hug Tom?" Alfred offered.

"No, no I'm quite all right. Do you need a hug?"

"I only get hugs from Mr Barrow." Alfred shook his head.

"I see. What about you Jimmy?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." The blonde said unconvincingly as he wiped his eyes.

To normalise the feeling in the room Tom tried to move the subject on, "I er- shaved my legs."

"You're eager." Jimmy sniffed.

"It was a condition wasn't it? Besides it's not like I have much to do up here. I think I made a better job of it than Alfred in any case."

"Did you use salt and lemon?" The ginger footman judged him.

"No, but neither did you, and Mr Barrow told me that mint leaves are particularly effective." Tom lied, voices snickering in his head.

"Mint leaves! That doesn't surprise me. I always thought he smelled nice." Alfred said as a whisper for no real reason.

"So how about you Jimmy? Have you done it?"

"No." _No one touches me hairs, no matter where they are. Except for Mr Barrow, but it's okay, he understands me, and me hair's needs._

"You have to do it, or you'll have to leave." Alfred threatened the other footman. Tom however looked worried at the prospect of being left alone with Alfred in his bedroom.

"Well me hairs are blonde, so you can't really notice them." Jimmy tucked his legs under him defensively.

"Uh huh-" Alfred voiced as he raised an eyebrow at Tom who returned his look with an impish grin.

"Grab him!"

Before Jimmy knew what was happening he had a footman on his arms, and a Mr Branson on his legs, rolling up his kimono and splashing water on them. Tom dashed to his sink in the adjoining room while Jimmy wriggled in Alfred's arms, which were surprisingly strong, and came back with a razor. Tom told the blonde to hold still or else he might end up chopping off his foot. So Jimmy stopped struggling and let his legs be shaved, tears falling down his reddened cheeks.

* * *

"Right, now we are all ready-" Alfred joyously announced as the three sat in a circle after the incident was over.

"I hate you." Jimmy uttered; his arms and legs folded as he gave the other two a stern unforgiving look.

"That's nice in't it?" Tom said sarcastically.

"I hate you."

Alfred ignored him, "I think we should start on-"

"I hate you."

"I think we get that you hate us, Jimmy!" Tom turned to the unmoving footman, who remained silent… for a little while.

"I hate you."

"I will shave your head!" Tom bellowed.

Jimmy shrivelled up and emitted a small cry, "I suppose they are quite soft." The footman brought his legs around and stroked his hairless shins.

"Right," Alfred turned their attention back to business, "there's the matter of the personal items we were supposed to sequester from Mr Barrow."

"That's a big word for you." Jimmy joked in vengeance for his trauma.

"I know words! Now, show your items. Jimmy?"

"I have Mr Barrow's comb and pomade." Jimmy displayed said items which he drew from the elaborate folds of his kimono.

"Oh lovely, lovely." Alfred nodded appreciatively.

"I have to put them back by morning though. Alfred, how about you?"

From the large pocket of his dressing gown Alfred drew a parcel of folded cloth. The others looked intently as they had no idea what it was until Alfred unfolded it.

"Oh my god!" Tom exclaimed, "Is that- is that-"

"Pants!" Jimmy cried, as there was indeed a pair of pants lying before them on the floor.

"They are not- They can't be Mr Barrow's-"

"Yes, indeed they are." Alfred smiled, somewhat proudly at his accomplishment.

"You stole Mr Barrow's pants?" Tom asked, wide eyed.

"I borrowed them."

"Oh my god you are actually stalking his pants." Jimmy wiped his brow in disbelief.

"No I'm not. I am not stalking him, or his pants… I don't dream of him in his pants." _Often._

"Yet you have them there, in your hands. Why?"

"I don't know, they were just sat there and I thought we had to get something to do with his legs."

"What did you think the rest of us were going to bring?!" Tom said.

"I don't know. Does he own leg warmers?"

"Real men don't need leg warmers. Not when they have mint leaves." Jimmy gave him a stupid look, which forced Tom to suppress a laugh by moving the conversation on.

"Right, well, moving on from the pants, I have something you might find interesting."

"Go on then Mr- Tom." Alfred being just as eager to draw attention from himself.

Tom stood and went to the dresser and brought over a strange black item. It was hard to see exactly what it was until he sat down, then it was just impossible to say what they believed it to be as there was no way it could be true.

"It's a- a wig." Jimmy stuttered.

"Not just any wig. It's Mr Barrow's wig." Tom stunned the footmen into silence.

"Mr… Barrow's…wig?" Alfred wasn't sure whether to be shocked or amused.

"Yep, be careful with it. It's an antique." Tom told them, jutting his tongue out playfully from the side of his lips as he handed over the hair piece to the footmen.

"He's not that old." Jimmy defended the under butler. _Or he's just good for his age. Very good. Very… ooooh yes._

"Where did you get this?" Alfred asked, fighting the urge to rub the hair against his face so instead perched it on his knee like a cat, and stroked it.

"I was snooping around after my chat with Mr Barrow and I found a secret compartment in his room." Tom gave Alfred a curious look at what he was doing to the wig, "_This_ was in there."

"That is incredible. No wonder he didn't want us to touch his hair, it's so soft and delicate." Jimmy said as he stroked the wig on Alfred's knee like a pet.

"I can't believe he wears a wig." Alfred still failed to believe.

"I thought you knew that." Tom after all had been apprised by Mr Barrow that the two youths had been under such a belief.

"I don't understand, I pulled his hair and everything and it stayed on." Jimmy remembered vividly.

"Maybe he wears a wig… on top of his hair." Alfred suggested.

"Why?"

"To scare children?" The ginger shrugged.

"Dare you to wear it." Jimmy put to Tom, who took the wig back and stroked the hairs down which Alfred had set out of place.

"I'll wear it, if you wear those."

"What?"

"Jimmy, do your hair, Alfred… wear the pants."

"Done." Jimmy opened the pot of pomade and got the comb ready to smooth back his beloved Jimmy-wave, believing it was worth it to get Alfred in Thomas' pants, who was not willing to do it.

"I am not wearing his pants."

_I'll do it if Alfred won't. _"Put the pants on."

"Make me."

It was now Jimmy and Tom's turn to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

After a struggle, the ginger sinker couldn't live up to his name and defeat the ambush of Tom and Jimmy as they fought to get the footman in the under butler's pants, the only time these words could ever be used literally. They all then sat together, Tom wearing the black wig, his brown hairs still sticking out the bottom, Jimmy's hair completely slicked back, and Alfred… in Mr Barrow's pants.

"This is so wrong." Alfred stared into space, not daring to look anywhere else.

"Yet so good." Jimmy laughed.

"Lucky they fit you." Tom pointed out.

"They're too short!" Alfred cried in rage as he stuck his legs out and the ends came above his knees.

"You can't expect them to be perfect."

"They smell!"

"Of mint?" Jimmy hoped.

"No! No they don't!" Alfred sobbed, as Jimmy and Tom snickered at the alternative reason for 'the smell'. "I'm scared."

"Are they dirty?" Jimmy asked. _Oh please let him say yes._

"Yes! Oh god, I knew I should have left them in the laundry room, who knows what he's been doing in them? Can I take them off?"

"No!" Jimmy and Tom held Alfred's hands as the footman tried to pull the pants off him.

"So, what was it that made you two so obsessed with Mr Barrow?" Tom asked the footmen.

"We're not obsessed!" The pair refuted the claim.

"Of course not." Tom said sarcastically, "You just… well look at you."

"Look at _you_!" Jimmy eyed up the wig on Mr Branson's head, which moved with his motion.

"All right, I like him." Tom confessed. _He's not that bad, not lately anyway, _"So what's your story then, why do you love his legs so?"

"I- er admire the hairs on his legs. They almost form a Jimmy-wave." Jimmy said.

"No they don't." Alfred argued. _His leg hairs do not look that stupid._

"They could if I got me hands on them, and his legs hold the rest of him so well. How he manages to glide around like that and keep that old wig on, it's just incredible."

"Oh, speaking of which, he gave me one of his hairs to measure." Tom suddenly remembered this part of his and Thomas' plan.

"He didn't!" The footmen cried, their hands pressed to their cheeks in delight.

"He did."

"That's just like him, always so thoughtful." Jimmy tilted his head to Alfred as he looked at him through the top of his eyes dreamily.

"It was precisely two inches." Tom told them.

"Only _his_ hairs could be so exact."

"Do you have it with you?" Alfred asked, with a strange excitement.

"I- no. Sorry. I do not carry other men's leg hairs in my pocket Alfred. Even if _you_ would. So what's your story?"

"His legs inspired me to become a bigger man." Alfred declared.

"A 'better' man?" Tom thought Alfred's statement needed correcting.

"That too…" Apparently it didn't, "and to take up wrestling… and become an artist."

"Oh yes I heard about your escapades as the 'ginger sinker'-" Mr Barrow having informed Tom of this as well.

"Heard about that did you?" Alfred adjusted the collar proudly on his pink dressing gown, "Do you think it'll catch on?"

"I really hope not." Jimmy gave him a tired and discouraging look as he thought of the chaos Alfred had caused in his misplaced sense of masculinity.

"An artist as well?" Tom continued.

"Yes, there were that poem and… I uh- I drew a picture of his legs." _Why did I tell them that?_

"You what?"

"I were drawing in the servants' hall because I were bored and I somehow just drew a picture of his legs." Alfred said slowly as he noted the dumbfounded expressions of his companions.

"Let's see." They ordered, and Alfred, like a good servant, obeyed.

"Oh my god! They look exactly like his legs and all!" Jimmy remarked as he looked at the drawing, which was done on the blank corner of a newspaper, of a pair of legs, nothing attached, drawn in only what can be described as a sexy pose.

"Really?" Alfred blushed with pride.

"That's quite brilliant actually Alfred." Tom commented, he had never seen Mr Barrow's legs, but as far as drawings of legs go he deemed Alfred's picture to be very good, and he and Jimmy were content to continue discussing it.

"I like the way you've drawn the hairs, not too dark and close, very fine-"

"And the curve of his muscle just there-"

"Oh yes, I noticed that." Jimmy said to Tom as they huddle around picture. "It's just a perfect likeness."

"Maybe you should take up drawing Alfred."

"I thought about it but..."

While Alfred's attention had been grasped by the Irishman, Jimmy kept an eye on them as he silently slipped the scrap paper inside his kimono while they spoke. _I'll keep that for later._

"So how about you Mr Branson?" Jimmy interrupted the chatter, to distract them from the whereabouts of the picture which now lay against his breast. "What's your story?"

"For me, it's just the way his legs carried the rest of him into my life."

"Awwww." Jimmy and Alfred sighed, "That's lovely, that is, and so true." Jimmy added. _I wish I said that. _"I like the way his legs move. Have you noticed that they glide?"

"I just thought they moved like normal legs, just one in front of the other really." Tom said, much to Jimmy's horror.

"Nah, I'm telling you, that man glides. He's like a cloud that just creeps into your life without your even knowing it. So quiet, like a whisper. Shhhh."

Suddenly there was a banging on the door which drew a scream from all three men, the wig practically fell off Tom's head, making a right mess of it as he straightened it, and Jimmy and Alfred jumped up and scurried away from sight while Tom went to answer the door. As Tom opened it he saw it was none other than Mr Carson.

"Mr Carson, can I help?"

"Forgive me Mr Branson, but I seem to have lost my footmen, and I heard they might be with you, I just wanted to check." Mr Carson tried peering around the door for any sign of the youths.

"Yes, they are with me."

"In your bedroom?!" The butler looked at Tom in alarm at the implications of what he was saying.

"I promise Mr Carson that I do not intend to ravage them."

"I thought perhaps Mr Barrow might be hosting one of his 'male orgies'." The butler gave a disapproving eyebrow.

"That's not until later Mr Carson." Tom coolly replied. _Male orgies? And Mr Carson knows? What has that pesky under butler been up to?_

"Good. What's going on now?"

_Good? _"We are having a club meeting in appreciation of Mr Barrow's legs."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'his legs'?" The butler blinked.

"Yes. They inspire us." There had to be some perks of being one of the family; being brutally honest with the butler should be one of them.

"I won't deny I haven't noticed the rare virtue of his legs, but it's only because I taught him how to use them properly. Without me they would be no better than Mr Molesley's."

_Is he taking credit for Mr Barrow's legs?_ "We know that's true Mr Carson, in fact we were just talking about that."

"In that case I won't disturb your evening further."

"Don't worry Mr Carson I won't keep them up too late." Tom made to shut the door but Mr Carson had something further to add.

"Uh Mr Branson, this is quite a delicate matter, but may I point out that there is some kind of animal on your head?"

"I'm sorry?"

The butler seeming to have only just noticed the wig, and one of the rules of thumb for a servant was to never comment on your master's wig, but the butler felt it necessary to make an exception, "I think you have a dog attached to your head Mr Branson."

Tom looked up and saw the tips of black hairs falling over his forehead. "Oh, thank you Mr Carson, I'll put it outside."

"Very good. Goodnight Mr Branson."

"Goodnight Mr Carson."

Tom shut the door and wheezed in laughter at Mr Carson's presumptions, his emotion only encouraged by Alfred's reaction.

"Mr Barrow's coming to host a male orgy in your bedroom? In here?"

It was too much. How could he say no? "Yes. He's going to give us a private viewing of his legs."

"Wait, are you saying the under butler is going to strip for us?" Jimmy's jaw dropped. _I have been waiting my whole life for this moment._

"Yes. At least his legs anyway."

"Wow. But wait, he'll see me in his pants." Alfred pulled his dressing gown tighter over the offending garment.

"That can be a turn on." Jimmy said. _Unless it's you._

"Really?" _Maybe I should try on Ivy's pants for her?_

"Yes."

"Oh, that's all right then." He sighed, "Wait-"

His sentence was disturbed by a knocking.

"He's here!" The three cried excitedly.

"Oh my god, so exciting! Wait, I need to check meself." Jimmy went over to the mirror, and checked his hair. _I care way too much about this. Who cares? I'm not missing this. Hey, my hair looks good like this, maybe I should keep it this way._

"Get in the bed." Tom ushered the pair, who jumped in, ready for the spectacle about to meet their eyes. But a strange tickling up the footmen's legs caused them to squeal and jump to their feet on the bed. The pair hugged in terror at what could be in the bed as they saw a long lump move up under the covers and a head poked out from the top.

"What is going on here?" A fully clothed Mr Barrow slowly emerged.

"Mr Barrow? Have you been there the whole time?" Jimmy swallowed nervously. _How on earth did he get in there? How did we not notice? Is this real? Am I dead? Maybe this is heaven._

"That is none of your business… Alfred, are you wearing me pants?" Mr Barrow, having heard snippets of the conversation gave Alfred a terrifying look, it was one thing to hear of someone wearing your pants, but to see it for yourself was another thing entirely. It was hard to decide who was more traumatised at that moment; Alfred having to wear the under butler's _dirty_ pants, or the under butler knowing the footman was wearing his dirty pants.

"Yes Mr Barrow," Alfred moaned, "would you like them back?"

"Are you wearing anything underneath them?"

_What happened to 'my' pants?_ "Uh, no."

"You're all right. You can keep them… though I hope you don't." The under butler reconsidered in worry at why the footman would choose to keep his pants.

"Mr Barrow, why were you in Mr Branson's bed?" Jimmy asked. _He's never in 'my' bed._

"Why are you wearing a kimono?" Mr Barrow retorted.

"It was a gift!" _If you brought me a kimono I might have let you kiss me that time, but no. Oh, he's giving me that sexy under butler glare again. _"Do you want to stroke me legs? I shaved."

"What? No!" _No? Since when do I refuse to feel up young virile men? _"Why is me pomade in your hair?"

"I wanted to try something new?" _Why am I lying when he heard everything?_

"It suits you." Mr Barrow's eyes relaxed somewhat, as what he said in spite he found to actually be true.

_He is so sweet. I might keep the pomade_… _if he lets me_. "Thank you."

"Why were you in Tom's bed Mr Barrow?" Alfred repeated Jimmy's question, having got over his embarrassment for the time being.

"Better to be in it than under it." The under butler suggestively looked at Alfred to remind him of his past exploits.

"I'm not sure it is." Jimmy dared to wonder.

"Tom, where are you going?" Mr Barrow asked as he saw Mr Branson sneaking out before the under butler could question him about the wig, the reply came as coolly as those he gave to Mr Carson.

"To put the wig out Mr Barrow."

* * *

**Hope you liked this deleted scene from ****_I Dare You_****. It was very hard to write and utterly mad, but I thought it would be interesting, especially as I was curious myself when writing the relevant chapters of ****_I Dare You_**** as to what happens in a leg appreciation society, and I wanted an excuse to bring in Tom and Thomas having a bit of fun of their own. Thank you for reading.**

**Also thank you to Shakespeare for letting Tom borrow his tenth sonnet.**


End file.
